


Hyena Sitting

by supervillainesses



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supervillainesses/pseuds/supervillainesses
Summary: Harley gets herself arrested, leaving a sleep-deprived Ivy to collect her favorite pets.





	

            It was four in the morning when the phone rang. Honestly, Ivy should have recognized it as a bad sign, considering the abandoned animal hospital’s landline (private and unlisted) was only functional so Selina and Harley could have affordable cable. Affordable, even though between the three of them there was a constant flow of cash pouring in. Harley’s penny-pinching tendencies were understandable remnants of a time where she and Pam had hardly cents to their name. Selina was just stingy.

            Pulling on a robe, too tired to fumble with the tie, she rolled out of bed, noting its emptiness.

            The rotary phone was located on the ground floor in the kitchen. Pam almost didn’t make it in time; she took it from the hook on the last ring.

            “Someone had better be dying.”

            “HEY, BAY-BEE!”

            Pam held the phone out at arm’s length. If she wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. Squeezing her eyes shut and groaning, she returned the receiver to her ear.

            “Harley, where are you?”

            Harley laughed nervously loud. Always a _wonderful_ sign. “Red, my dear, my sweet? How much d’ya love me?”

            “Harley, my darling, my true, it depends on how splendidly you fucked up this time.”

            The jester gasped as if stung. “I would _never_ —”

            “You’re at the station right now, aren’t you?”

            “I back-flipped outta bank window and into Batgirl’s face on a tree branch,” Harley admitted. There was a vague thought in Pam’s mind that told her she should be surprised. Honestly, though, nothing with Harley surprised her anymore, not situations like _these_ , anyway. “Sure as hell hope she enjoyed it, because that kid _certainly_ got a face-full of boob.”

            “That poor child.”

            “I know, right? No one touches Harley Quinn’s chest and lives ta tell about it.”

            “Except me.”

            “’Cept you, of course, Red; you’re my loving exception.”

            Pam pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be there in twenty, I just have to change.”

            “Nah, ya don’t gotta. I was just callin’ to letcha know where I am. Roxy, Crane, and Eddie and his two hench-gals are here, too, and we’re all catching up. I know ya don’t, um, _like_ them so much and all, so…I mean, if you wanna come, that’s cool, but we’re just gonna gossip and play poker ’til we, er, _stop the party_ at dawn.”

            Pam sighed, feeling herself grow sadly awake. “I’ll meet you halfway come dawn, Harl.”

            Harley squealed. “Thanks, babe! Wear somethin’ cute—as if it’s possible for you to be _un_ -cute, ha!—I wanna get breakfast. Oh! I’ll be sure to brag about you, as always. I’m gonna wipe the floor with them.”

            Ivy smiled a bit. “Try not to take their every penny this time, sunflower.”

            “That’s gonna be tough; I’m so good at cards.” Because she was a fantastic cheat, but Pam didn’t voice this. A talent was a talent, and Harley’s skills were, more often than not, money-making. “But I do have _one_ request.”

            “What is it?”

            “I sorta took Bud and Lou with me tonight, but they ran off when the _feds_ started firing their guns. Can ya go find them? They’re probably shaking like little babies in the park.”

            “You could have mentioned that first!” Pam was honestly shocked, usually Harley would be screaming and hollering until someone found her babies.

            “S’okay, Red, I have only the utmost faith you’ll find them. Hey, mitts off, pal! I’m talkin’ to my girl, here! Hey!” There was a loud sound of scuffling and muffled screaming—Harley had dropped the phone and was likely being physically carried off by a police officer. Pam knew this, because that was how it almost always went when the two of them were arrested. Harley was always a phone hog. There was another long string of noises as a man grunted and quick footsteps approached the phone again. “Bye, Pam, love ya. Mwah!”

            The phone was roughly hung up, and Pam was left longing for bed. Really, how far could the hyenas go in an hour? Just a sixty-minute nap, that’s all she needed.

            Pam nearly leapt onto the countertop as something brushed up against her ankle. Isis, Selina’s favorite black cat, meowed at her from the floor. Her green eyes were much like her master’s, and Pam recalled that old saying about pets and owners looking alike. There was something tied to her paw, a rolled up piece of paper, as if she were a carrier pigeon.

            “You’re an oddly patient little creature,” Pam cocked a brow, carefully undoing the bow around the cat’s ankle (Did cats have ankles? God, she was starting to think like Harley now), to retrieve a letter Selina had apparently written.

            _Dear Harley or Ivy_

_Okay, mostly I’m talking to Harley. But if you’re reading this, Ivy, I guess you’re good enough. Call this number._

            “I don’t have the time for this,” Pam groaned, but picked up the receiver again to place the call. It rang and rang; she was about to hang up when Selina answered.

            “Harley?”

            “Ivy.”

            “Fuck.”

            “It’s nice to know that after all these years of corroborating, the sentiment is mutual.”

            “Har, har. Well, anyway, I’m gonna be in Metropolis for the next few days. No need for panic. There’s just a rather sparkly ruby with my name on exhibit in this quaint little museum I happen to be in town to visit. They even had the courtesy of placing it on a tacky little velvet cushion while they wait for me to retrieve it.”

            “And you strung a note around your cat because…?”

            “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get to this point or not when I left the house. I put the note there as a failsafe. Since you found it, clearly I wasn’t there to take it off.”

            “And?”

            “And I need you to take care of Isis while I’m away, duh. She has an appointment at the vet today at noon. Ordinarily, I’d have taken her myself.”

            “How big is this rock?”

            “Let me put it in a language you speak: Imagine a cabbage, but a ruby.”

            “Fine. But I demand forty-percent this time.”

            Selina made a low whistle. “Harley is _not_ gonna be happy with ten, you know that.”

            “Then I suppose you two had best be happy with your 30/30 split,” Pam smirked, and hung up.

            The phone rang again. “Harley?”

            “Selina,” she could hear the cat burglar’s smirk. “You’re _really_ not so good at negotiation. I’m doing the major theft here. I get the biggest cut, but I can be generous, too. We can discuss percentages when I get back. All three of us. In the same room. Together.”

            Pam sucked in a breath. The one drawback to being romantically entangled with Harley was situations like these, where she felt, God, _morally obligated_ to not leave her in the dust. It looked like she and Harley might have to settle for a 30/30 split instead.

            “Where’s the cat carrier?” Ivy despised how much defeat laced her tone. Growing a conscience was the worst mistake of her life.

            “By the front door.”

            “Selina, are you finished with your call?”

            Pam’s mouth opened in an O. “You’re not just there for a _jewel_ , you sneaky cat. Was that Bruce Wayne?”

            “No,” Selina chuckled throatily, “that was Bruce Wayne in my _bed_. A very, very important distinction. Hugs and kisses, Pamela. Ta.”

            A dial tone hummed as Pam stared at the receiver in her hand. Well, she may not get a high percentage of the ruby profit, but at the very least Selina was guaranteed to return in a good mood, whether the heist went well or not.

* * *

 

            It wasn’t until Pam was in the car that she realized how underprepared she was. She had hurriedly dressed in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, both of which bordered on too snug. Once out of the room and into the light of the garage, she could see they were Harley’s. In the dark bedroom it was hard to tell one length of denim apart from another.

            The blonde jester littered the floor with her wardrobe, and Pam owned so few casual pieces. Harley was of a more petite physique, no matter what police and courtroom sketch artists liked to fantasize when rendering her likeness, so her clothes tended to hug Pam just a bit too snugly. It was fine for around the house (better, because Harley was there to see it), but she hoped to evade being spotted.

            Aside from her uncomfortable outfit, there was the unfortunate fact that Gotham had a _lot_ of banks. Thirty-six, last she checked. Last year, there had been thirty-seven, but Joker blew it up in an attempt at a joke only he understood.

            She was three banks in when she realized this was getting her nowhere. She didn’t even know _which_ bank Harley had attempted her heist. Calling the station would likely open a can of worms she wouldn’t like to touch, and asking the Bat Legion would end disastrously as well. That left one option.

            Pam rested her head on the steering wheel as she waited for the light, thankful that she had a spare dress in the trunk for a quick change. You never knew when you’d have to gatecrash an upper-crust party, or drop by unannounced at the Iceberg Lounge.

* * *

 

            The Lounge’s claim to fame, aside from its mix of unsavory clientele, was that it was open all day every day, with the exception of a few major holidays. The Lounge was more of a watering hole for the criminal underground than a nightclub, but the bartenders certainly knew how to mix a drink. Ivy’s favorite was the stores of wine that lined the upper shelves behind the bar, always perfectly vintage. Selina liked whatever got her hammered quickest. And Harley favored the screwdriver, being a mix of vodka and orange juice. Something sweet, bitter, and menacingly tempered was perfectly suited for the jester.

            “M-Ms. Ivy!” The bouncer at the entrance of the club drew to a soldier’s attention. “A-An honor, I’m tellin’ ya!”

            Pam smirked just a bit. She felt like death warmed over, but such a young kid getting so excited seeing her with bedhead and in a hastily changed-into dress and heels boosted what little good mood she had so far. As usual, the line to get into the Lounge was as long as the night. The ones at the end would be lucky to gain entry by noon, if they stuck around that long.

            “Tell Penguin I’d like to speak with him,” she offered just a small crescent of teeth. “Immediately.”

            A wave of booing and jeers followed Pam as she was ushered in through the door. The bouncer actually shut it behind them, closing out any who sought admittance for as long as he was to remain in Pam’s presence. Not all of Gotham’s criminal underground received such service, but Pam was something of an exception.

            One reason being she was considered one of the utmost elite of the cities rogues—being super-powered in a city where its main defender was decidedly _not_ definitely upped her advantage in the ranking. The second was the simple fact that Ivy rarely showed her face around the establishment, much less in public. Her presence would breed rumors, which would bring onlookers, which would translate into money in Penguin’s slippery little pocket.

            The third was, frankly, she was beautiful, and beautiful things demanded to be looked at.

            The kid seated her in a curved booth and waited, stature ramrod straight, by the table. If it would make it through right away, she would send Harley a text on the situation, knowing she’d find the bouncer’s eagerness adorable.

            “Ivy!” Penguin greeted her with a grandiose tone, still descending a set of stairs halfway across the club. Ivy knew how to make an entrance, but Penguin certainly knew how to make his presence known. “So pleased to see you outside a prison uniform.”

            Pam stamped down the urge to transform the potted ferns placed around the bar engorge and overtake the pudgy little man as he waddled her way; Ivy was a sight to behold, not a spectacle at a zoo. Still, she stood when he neared, and allowed him to kiss both cheeks. There was a certain code of ethics among thieves, especially ones with a common costumed enemy. No matter how little she cared for the Penguin, she could never let it show. Also, Harley liked him, so there was that, too.

            “Hello, Oswald. You’re looking…” Pam scrambled for a polite word with a thin smile. “Robust.”

            “Fish oil tablets, my doctor recommended them.” He smiled, and two rows of unsettlingly sharp teeth greeted Pam. He was, admittedly, hard to entirely hate. “May I ask why you’ve given me the honor of your presence tonight?”

            “I’d rather discuss it in private, if that’s all right with you. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

            “Of course, of course! Right this way,” he offered her his arm.

            Pam, a strained smile on her face, bent low so she could hook her arm through his. He smelled like smoked salmon, cologne, with just a dash of tobacco from his cigar. He led her through the crowd and down a long hallway with only one door at the end. Once inside, he released her, and she straightened to find she had a cramp in her side from bending at such a strange angle.

            “So, what is it this time?” He approached a small card table where a few amber-hued liquors glittered in crystal decanters and poured two fingers of brandy. Pam declined, and he downed them both. “More gold from Ms. Kyle? She was just here less than a day ago to trade in a little sum of it in exchange for plane tickets and perfectly forged invitations to an unveiling at Metropolis. I wanted to press for information on why she’d need two, but everyone knows she’s insatiably enamored with that rich boy-toy of hers, so I figured it was safer to keep out of her claws.”

            Honestly, Pam was not in the least surprised by the new information about Selina’s trip.

            “No gold, I’m afraid. I am here strictly for information.”

            “Unusual,” he sat himself at his desk, the chair and large wooden bureau dwarfed him. “I know I’ve begun to establish myself as Gotham’s grapevine, but to have become such a source that _Poison Ivy_ would come sniffing around to bite is reassuring. Ordinarily, I don’t give up what I may know gratis, but likely you understand exactly how you’ve benefited my business tonight, so I’m willing to at least hear you out.”

            “Harley went out on her own for a robbery tonight, and I’d like to know which bank it was.”

            “Oh,” he drew out the sound with rounded lips. “I see. If the rumors are true, and they often are in our line of work, do I detect a hint of mistrust?”

            “What _rumors?_ ” Ivy bristled.

            “Why, that it’s no longer the world of the Clown Prince and Princess of Crime, but Gotham’s _Queens_ of Crime.” Penguin tapped his odd hands on the table. “No one was surprised, honestly. The gentlemen of Arkham had a pool going for quite a while on whether you two would ever put anything into action. Nearly everyone voted that you were too repressed for anything to come of it. Did you honestly think you two were discreet? Sneaking into each other’s cells, the constant cooing and kisses, your utter hatred for all things Joker? You and Ms. Quinn were as subtle as detonated atomic bomb.”

            Penguin was positively tickled, but Pam felt like ripping off his head and using it as a watering can. His long nose would make such a lovely water spout.

            “Afraid Quinn has fallen back into her old ways?” He asked quietly, likely misinterpreting her sudden flare of temper on her face. “It’s unlikely she met _him_ there, you know. He’s been locked up in the bowels of Arkham for months.”

            “You keep tabs on Joker?”

            “I must. His predisposition for chaos can be detrimental to business if I don’t have time to prepare. In case you’re curious, should he break out on a spree I have plans to fortify this building into a safety zone for people like us.”

            It was good information, but it was hardly a matter of concern at the moment. “If you must know, and clearly you must because you are hardly forthcoming, she’s in the custody of the GCPD. She left something at the crime scene and I’m going to retrieve it for her.”

            “Is that _something_ valuable?” He leaned forward, a hungry glint in his black eyes.

            Pam arched a brow. “To her, certainly.”

            “I’ll have the information for you in a moment,” he produced a rather expensive looking smart phone and began typing. “Why didn’t you just look it up on the news, or the Internet, Pamela?”

            “We both know this was better for the both of us,” also, Pam had been too tired to think of anything else, and she was already in the car. At the very least, her presence tonight instilled a small tremor of shock that would linger for a few weeks when people dared mention her by name.

            “There. I’ve texted you the address, plus a coupon for free drinks at the bar, as added thanks for your showing up tonight.”

            Pam furrowed her brows. “You have my phone number?”

            “I told you, I’ve made it a habit of being Gotham’s grapevine. Soon, I’ll be its very spine, just you wait. Run along, Ms. Ivy, and do tell Harley to drop by more often. The penguins miss her.”

            “Will do,” Pam was already at the door when she paused, “and, out of curiosity…who was it that _had_ bet on Harley and I making it through?”

            “Why,” Penguin smiled, but a bit sadly, “Victor Fries.”

            “Ah,” Pam’s smile was similarly saddened. If any of the inmates of Arkham knew anything about love, it would be Fries.

* * *

 

            At this point, she shouldn’t have been surprised at what the last moments of the night could throw at her, yet there she was, mouth open in her car.

            “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me…” Pam resisted the urge to smash her head repeatedly into the windshield.

            On the bank’s generous lawn were the babies. They had hardly strayed from the building.

            Outside the bank’s generous lawn was half the GCPD, guns raised at the two as they snarled with teeth bared at the officers. Pam slammed the door behind her, and the two hyenas perked just a bit in her direction, still snarling all the same.

            “Officers Cheekbones and Teletubby,” Pam greeted Bullock and Montoya from behind where they’d barricaded themselves at their open squad car. She arched a brow and Bullock’s backside, where a large chunk of his pants were ripped away, exposing far too much of his boxers for Pam’s comfort. “What happened to him?”

            “While we appreciate you just handing yourself over to us, Ivy, we’ve got a situation here,” Montoya’s voice was strained. “Your girlfriend’s nutso pets took a bite out of my partner.”

            “Lou,” Ivy murmured. Butt-biting was that mutt’s thing. “Stand down; don’t you see they’re terrified?”

            “Terrified, my ass!” Bullock exclaimed, reddening in the cheeks at the accidental pun, given the situation. “Those mangy pals are gonna get put down and it’s gonna happen tonight.”

            “So you intend on shooting them? You’d be unleashing not only the wrath of PETA down on the Gotham Police Department, but do you _honestly_ want a deranged and mourning Harley Quinn haunting your every moment until you die?”

            “We’s gonna get them euthanized!”

            “Do you _honestly_ want a deranged and mourning Harley Qui—”

            “ _Dios_ , Ivy, what do you suppose we do?” Montoya was beyond exasperated.

            “Let me take them,” Ivy stated as if it were obvious, and it was. “They’ll listen to me.”

            “Those little monsters only listen to Quinn, and ya damned well know it.” Bullock spat, but didn’t stop Pam from stepping out around the car.

            “Bud, Lou, come.” Ivy tilted her head.

            They stared at her dumbly.

            “Bud. Lou. _Come_.”

            They cocked their heads. Pam went red in the face.

            “ _Babies!_ ”

            The two hyenas’ demeanor shifted back to that of two dopey little dogs. They bounded to her and circled her legs, butting their heads against her as she walked, likely grateful to her for getting her out of this situation. She smirked smugly at the cops as she bent and grabbed hold of their collars to guide them.

            “Told you.”

            “You ain’t going anywhere, plant lady,” Bullock was the only to keep his weapon raised. “Just ’cause you calmed the things don’t mean you’re getting off that easy.”

            “Why, _officers_ ,” Pam walked right past them, still guiding the babies to her car. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just picking up my girlfriend’s pets, and taking them for a walk.”

            She let Bud and Lou into the backseat, where they settled in comfortably after licking her face a few dozen times. Once the door was shut on them, she waved at Bullock and Montoya, got in the car, and left. In the rearview mirror, she could see Detective Bullock shaking his fist in her direction, and Montoya laughing at him so hard that she was doubled-over. GCDP’s finest.

* * *

 

            “All right, enough!” Pam snapped at the hyenas as they hopped up to kiss her face repeatedly while they crossed over the threshold of the front door. “Off with you two! Harley will feed you later.”

            She was certain they didn’t understand completely, but the tone of her voice definitely sent them off to wherever Harley let them play. Pam had just enough time to shower before she would have to meet up with Harley. As she shed her dress, she realized just how exhausted she was. Perhaps, had she been more awake, she would have remembered to shut the shower door, or heard the sound of paws padding into the room.

            She cranked on the water, and was joined by Bud and Lou. Pam flung herself to the corner of the shower, knocking over the caddy of various shampoos and bars of soap, startling the hyenas. The end result was a shower that lasted five minutes, two wet hyenas, and one very soaked, very pissy, very _furry_ Poison Ivy.

            “OUT!” All fondness for the creatures fled from her at the moment, and she sent them cowering off further into the building once more. Pam’s cell phone began to ring from the counter, and as with the landline there were few people who knew the number. “WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?”

            “Geeee, Red. Calm down.” Harley’s pout was audible through the line, and while usually Pam founded it alternately adorable and irritating, right now it was simply soothing. If there was anyone she could force herself to be calm for, it was Harley. Sometimes. “Thought you were gonna meet me half way from the station at dawn?”

            “I am.”

            “Well, _I’m_ here, but where are you?”

            Pam squinted. “It’s not even sun-up yet.”

            “Dunno what your definition of dawn is, Pam-a-Lamb, but in my book it happens _before_ sun-up.”

            Ivy groaned. “You’re joking, right?”

            “Listen, if ya ain’t here soon, I’m either gonna be caught and shipped back to Arkham, or I’m gonna have to hitch a ride with Roxy and lay low for a coupla days. And, damn, we’re friends, but we ain’t tied at the umbilical cord or nothin’.”

            “I’m, uh,” Pam looked down at how much hyena fur she was covered in, doubting she could towel it all away, “a little indisposed.”

            “Red, _please?_ ” Harley dropped her voice to a whisper. “Eddie and Crane already vamoosed, and Roxy’s the only one stickin’ around.”

            “Is this a…bad thing?”

            “Well, if you must know, Roxy ain’t exactly… _right_. Not Arkham not-right, but just kinda…well, there’s being into men and women, and then there’s being into whatever walks by ya. At any time at all. And when she likes people…she straps them to her rocket, and y’know how I don’t like fast high things. Rollercoasters make me hurl. She’s already hitting on me, Red. I’m uncomfortable.”

            “I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Pam stated firmly, already tugging on her dress. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

            “’Cause I didn’t wanna make ya mad. I can defend myself, but I know you’re the strong, jealous type, my red velvet cupcake.”

            Pam shuddered just a bit. “Please, Harl. Not the cupcake name.”

            “Too late, done is done. See ya soon, Pam. Love ya.”

            Ivy, blushing, muttered, “Love you, too.”

* * *

 

            “Isis, _get in the carrier_ ,” Pam felt as if she’d said it six dozen times, instead of two dozen.

            The black cat was backed up in a corner, standing on the shelves in the kitchen. Her rear was in the air, head ducked low in her paws, as her tail swayed side-to-side. Pam had no idea what it meant, but the position felt an awful lot like the cat was shooting her the proverbial middle finger. It was, after all, Selina’s cat.

            “Here, kitty, kitty,” Pam tried rubbing her fingers together, making kissing sounds, but to no avail. “Isis, I know this matters to you as much as the next heinous ball of fur, but I’ve got a very important date to uphold and you are seriously detrimental to the cause.”

            She couldn’t leave Isis and not take her to her appointment to the vet. Selina would have her skinned alive. Desperate, she left the kitchen to search for the stash of cat treats, only to be brought back by an ungodly ruckus.

            Bud and Lou, their fur scraggly and damp from their sadly shared shower, had somehow managed to get Isis down from the tall cabinet and were nudging her into the carrier. She moved in just in time to shut the cage door and lock it up.

            “Well, aren’t you two my smelly heroes in mangy armor?” Pam almost cooed, grateful that they’d spared her a few extra moments. She placed her hands on their heads and vigorously scratched their scalps. Bud thumped his foot against the floor and rolled onto his back expectantly. Pam, rolling her eyes, noted just how much like Harley the hyenas were. “You’re getting an hour in the greenhouse today, as soon as your mom and I get back.”

            Pam frowned just a bit. Just _when_ did she start speaking to the pets so much?

* * *

 

            Harley ran down the trail of the park, no longer dressed in her red and black suit, but now in jean shorts and a cropped long-sleeved pink shirt. Honestly, Pam didn’t think boots and shorts should be worn together, especially during the summer, but for some reason on Harley it worked. She was definitely a sight for sore eyes after the last few hellish hours.

            “Babe!” Harley chirped.

            Bracing herself for impact, Pam caught Harley as she sprang forward, latching onto Pam in a kiss too impassioned for public consumption. But Ivy was beyond caring, even though Harley’s legs were clamped around her waist and the heels of her boots dug into her spine. Pam was glad she’d set the cat carrier down onto the concrete upon spying her, otherwise she’d have dropped it in favor of wrapping her arms around Harley’s back instead. She separated from the kiss with a sunny grin.

            “D’ya miss me?”

            Pam was beginning to struggle supporting her weight. “Of course, of course. Now, come on, off with you.”

            “Sorry,” she pouted, hopping down and taking her hand with breezy ease, swinging their arms back and forth. “Ya wore that dress I like on ya so much! Gee, I know I told ya to look _cute_ , but now I’m convinced you’re just trying to seduce me.”

            Pam arched a brow. “If a dress is all it takes to get to you, Harley, then we have bigger problems on our hands.”

            “Not _all_ dresses, Red.” Harley rolled her eyes. “Just the ones you wear. Come on, I wanna go get waffles before the old folks start taking up all the good parking spaces.”

            “We have to drop Isis off at the veterinarian’s, first. Selina’s orders; I’ll fill you in on the way. After that, why don’t we go home and have breakfast in?” Pam suggested, leaning against Harley. “In _bed?_ ”

            Harley’s cheeks dusted with pink. “Tempting, very tempting. Wait a minute, Red!”

            “ _What?_ ” Pam, at this point, mostly wanted back in bed in the most innocent of ways. If luring Harley there in a manner decidedly _not_ innocent was the way to do it, then so be it. It would be win/win in the long run.

            Harley sniffed her. “You went and got the babies and gave them a _bath?_ Whatever did I do to deserve someone so good as you?”

            “Normally, I would be inclined to disagree with you,” Pam let out a long sigh, thinking of how frankly dreadful it all had been. Then she thought of her conversation with Penguin, and his comment on repressiveness. “But today, I feel nothing short of a saint.”

            “And ya did all this, just for me?”

            It almost broke Pam, hearing the disbelief in her tone. It was the same tone as the first of Harley’s birthdays they’d celebrated, when Pam had remembered the day without prompt and had given her a gift. _This is really for me?_ How she had wanted to take Harley’s face in her hands and scream something, so many things. Mostly, that Harley deserved the world.

            Pam, smirking, rested her forehead against Harley’s.

            “I’d do anything for you, Harley. So long as you want me around.”

            “Well, I’ll _always_ wantcha around, Pam.” Harley stated matter-of-factly, squeezing Pam’s hand. “So, I guess that means you’d better get used to doing whatever I say, and doing whatever I want. Like right now.”

            Pam chuckled. “All right, what do you want, Harl?”

            “A kiss,” Harley stated plainly, coiling some of Pam’s long red hair around her hand, gently using it to move her face a little lower down. “I wanna kiss.”

            “Oh, that,” Pam spoke against her lips, “I can do.”


End file.
